Angel of His
by Suffering Angel
Summary: Trowa's playing a dangerous game with his life. What does Quatre, his lover, have to say about it? Sister fic to Reason to Live. reposted due to some bug on my pc o.O


I don't own GW.

A/N: um, sister fic to Reason to Live. More angst. Yey.

**_Angel of His_**

**__**

It's such a weird feeling. Usually I never stay up this late. Not out here. Not alone, at least. Not without him…

I knew about his game. I don't know how. I guess I just knew. That's the way things are between us. He never tells me anything. I just… know…

So this… game… of his, wasn't anything new. Though to be perfectly honest, it scared the living daylight out of me. Don't get me wrong, none of us can exactly give up our life insurances (not that we have any. 'Gundam pilot' is far too risky a job) but we were good enough to come back alive. So after a while you get used to it

Watch him leave. Worry your heart out. Then watch him come back with a scratch and want to choke him for worrying you so much. It became a way of life.

But then came his so called game.

At first, I admit, I was in shock. Total, utter shock. Why would he do that to himself? Why?

Every night I passed by his room. Same sensations all the time. First there was nothing. Then came slight anxiety. Never fear, mind you. Then he pulled the trigger… and there was no other way to describe it other than ecstasy.

And I hated it.

Hated knowing that he enjoyed it. And knowing deep inside that I was the only one who could stop him.

I wanted him to stop on his own. So I always stood outside his door, waiting. Waiting… what for? For him to actually manage to kill himself? For him to, to… what?

Then he pulled the trigger.

And then I had enough.

He was out, wasn't supposed to come back for a while. I took the opportunity to sneak into his room. His overly tidy room. Everything's just like I knew it would be. Then I noticed it. The two notes by the bed.

One for Catherine. The other was for me. And the gun in the drawer for him. My hands are shaking. But I took the gun out anyway and opened it. And there it was. The feeling of anger that came over me was maddening. I felt like putting that bullet through his heart for being such a jerk. Because that's what he was- a first class jerk.

But instead, I just took the bullet, opened the window, and threw the damned thing as far as I could. And I suddenly felt so relieved…

Then came the note. I left Catherine's note alone. My own note was… quite enlightening. I cried when I read it. I really did. And I got angry, too. It took the possibility of his death by his own hands to let me know how he felt. How he cared for me… how he loved me.

And suddenly I felt such guilt… He didn't want me to know this. He didn't want me to read this… he's such a private person. Too private, but still… 

But I didn't have time to hesitate. I felt him closer. He was coming.

I placed everything in place… well, almost everything. I placed my note in my pocket. God help me if I know why. Then I sat on the window seal and pulled the curtains over.

He was supposed to notice me.

He didn't.

He was too engrossed in his little game.

Opened the drawer.

Took the gun.

No spinning.

That came as a shock to me. No spin? But the bullet I threw was…

Do you really want to die, love?

Aim.

Click.

No bullets.

I couldn't help myself. I clapped.

"Bravo. Is there an encore?"

He stared at me. My voice came out so harsh it amazed myself.

"Got your note."

He tensed somewhat, but he didn't glance to see if I touched Catherine's note. Good, you know me well enough to know I wouldn't touch it, but not enough to know I wouldn't let you die?

"Don't do it."

I couldn't help myself but laugh bitterly. He asked me why.

He asked me why! Why not to die? Gee, that's a tough one.

"Because I love you."

Blink.

Stare.

I think I killed it, mom.

Yes, I told him that. And I meant it. And god, it felt good. He dropped the gun. But not the game.

The game stayed. 

But so did I.

He hated it. I felt it. He hated allegedly putting me through that. He seemed to be unable to realize that I was doing it for him willingly. 

If I were the only thing to be keeping him here, I'd be more than happy to be his reason for living.

Forever.

But tonight, I'm not there. We had a fight. Just a stupid fight over nothing. I can't even remember what the cause was. But I'm here, nonetheless. And it's almost half past midnight. It's cold without him. I got so used to waking next to him, being next to him, being _with_ him… it almost hurts being apart. I can't help but sigh.

I'm being foolish, aren't I?

I mean, I can't even remember why we fought!

So I head back. Thoughts running through my head.

Life and Death.

I reach the front door.

A game, love?

Love and Hate.

I climb the stairs.

Am I really the only one for him? If so…

I don't mind being his angel. I'll be there for him as long as I live.

I place my hand on the handle and I feel all of his emotions.

Same as always…

Only this time… There's despair? And… longing… for… me?

Don't give up, don't you dare give up on me, you hear?!

I love you, Trowa.

And then you pulled the trigger.


End file.
